


Forest Lass

by Fireway



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, POV Sansa Stark, its sad you guys im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireway/pseuds/Fireway
Summary: If you would rather read the story in Russian, it has been translated by the wonderful @wiktoriatriggvi and can be found here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8421055





	Forest Lass

**Author's Note:**

> If you would rather read the story in Russian, it has been translated by the wonderful @wiktoriatriggvi and can be found here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8421055

The world was supposed to end – even with the dragon queen, they were supposed to die, death and winter taking Winterfell and later all of Westeros.

And then it didn’t.

 

Sansa looked up the crypt stairs as she walked out first, women and children behind her. Her hands were still shaking, but she hid it to her sleeves, breathing in and out as calms as she could.

Nothing could have prepared her to what she saw outside – Winterfell was in ruins, dead littering the ground, men groaning with their bleeding wounds. But no corpses walked around, anymore – they were shattered, gone, forgotten.

 

Sansa walked through the hell that was her home – she thought she’d never see the kind of suffering again inside Winterfell’s walls, not after she fed Ramsay Bolton to his own hounds. But there she was, her heart aching and throat closing up with tears that were trying to escape her eyes – but no, she needed to be Lady of Winterfell, have heart of steel, of stone, be a lady her father and mother would be proud of.

But even more than making proud the family whose heart didn’t beat anymore, she needed to make sure nobody new had been added; she needed to find Arya, Bran, Jon and Theon.

 

It wasn’t hard finding Jon – ever so valiant, a leader, a commander, shouting orders and trying to get people to group up, to find the fallen. Next, she walked to Godswood, where she knew Theon and Bran should be – only to find Theon first. The Greyjoy man was no more, as his soul had fled to the Mother, if there was to be such a kind god. She doubted it. Theon deserved so much more, but gods were cruel, playing with people’s lives until they were spent and only blaming them for not being faithful when they screamed their rage and hurt out to the world.

 

Bran was still sitting there, looking up to the sky, yet his eyes were of his own, of the brother she knew. As soon as Sansa walked close enough to hear Bran, his head snapped down, his voice monotone as if they didn’t just win a war against the King of Night, King of Winter, King of Death.

“Go find Arya.”

Sansa felt relief – those words must have meant Arya was still alive. Sansa nodded and turned on her heel, walking with fast steps through the snow towards the gate of Godswood.

 

Sansa had to look for a while – she went to the great hall, Arya’s bedchambers, stable, library, all the places she thought Arya could be hiding in.

Then it hit her – of course, the forge – or maybe the storage room. Sansa couldn’t help but feel a grin lift the corners of her lips as she remembered last night.

 

 _Arya had never looked like_ that _. With flushed cheeks and eyes brighter than Sansa had seen in years as she was tucking her shirt so it wouldn’t bunch up near Needle’s handle. Sansa noticed a few little things; a freshly made braid, her sleeves pushed up uneven, one of the boots partly under her leather breeches, as if Arya had dressed herself in a hurry – but then again, Sansa had just seen her dressed nice and proper earlier._

_“Arya?” Sansa’s voice made Arya’s head snap up in surprise as she froze._

_“… Sansa, what are you doing… Here?”_

_“I was looking for one of the guards, ser --”_

_“Well he’s not here.” The snappy response made Sansa’s brows furrow, as she looked where Arya had come from – the only thing was the storage for the forge, and as Sansa looked towards the room, he saw faint candlelight lighting the wall on the opposite side of the door. Sansa looked back to Arya in curious wonder, but she didn’t have to wonder for long when a raspy, low male voice called out after her._

_“Arry?” soon Sansa could place the voice to a face, as that blacksmith that came with Jon opened the door a bit more, the light from the room illuminating to the opposite wall._

_After that, it was pretty clear what had happened, as the man only had his breeches on, hanging from his waist, face as flushed as Arya’s though his eyes seemed sleepier – that would’ve explained his voice as well._

_Sansa’s eyes snapped to Arya, who was staring at the man, now – Gendry, if Sansa would go by “Gendry, put some bloody clothes on” – as a grin formed on the redhead’s lips._

_“Celebrating even before we haven’t won the battle?”_

_“Shut up.”_

As Sansa stepped into the forge, there was suddenly a pair of hands gripping her arms, as Arya looked up to her, face bloodied and eyes panicked – Sansa had never seen her like that.

“Have you seen Gendry?” her voice almost cracked – for a second Sansa wondered how many people had she already asked, how many people were as clueless as she. Sansa opened her mouth, but Arya had already seen her answer – Sansa didn’t know. “If you find him --- I – Tell him I’m looking for him.”

Then Arya was off, like a whirlwind running off to find her lover, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Arya never found Gendry.

Well, eventually, she did. She found Davos, gripping at Gendry’s body, bloodied and broken. Sansa saw it from a distance, and she still saw Arya’s heart break to pieces, as she let out the most heart-wrenching cry Sansa had heard ever. Sansa couldn’t look anymore – she turned her head to the little girl asking for her mother, gripping at Sansa’s hem, as Arya fell to her knees next to Davos and looked down, gently taking his head to her hands, as if to soothe a child, cradling his body that was now asleep forever.

 

Sansa didn’t see Arya until the funeral pyres the next day. Arya stood next to Sansa, and even with her chin up, proud killer of the Night King, Sansa could see her eyes were red from crying, the bags under her eyes a telltale story of a sleepless night.

 

As the bodies were lit in the pyres, as Sansa was walking back from Theon’s body, her eyes caught something in Arya’s arms she hadn’t noticed before. A warhammer, Sansa recognized. One with a stag head, with blood coating the dark metal and Arya’s tiny hands gripping it like it was her lifeline. As Sansa looked up at Arya’s face, she was shocked – the tears were running down Arya’s cheeks and down to her chins openly, as the girl didn’t even attempt to wipe them away, weeping openly for her lost love.

Sansa stood next to her sister soon, as the black smoke rose from the bodies. She lifted her hand slowly, wrapping it around the tiny frame of Arya, feeling her shoulder shake in the silent cry.

The Stark sister stood there, one crying, both there for each other when Arya never let go of the worn warhammer.

 

* * *

 

Outside the people were preparing to march to King’s Landing now. Inside, it was warm and cosy, as most of the hall to the bedchambers was rebuilt so the winter winds wouldn’t creep into the bones of Winterfell. Sansa was thankful for that, as she walked through the hall, carrying a small tray with salted meat, bread and a cup of hot wine – maybe Arya could stomach it down.

 

When Sansa opened the door to Arya’s chambers, she was surprised to see Arya sitting up on her bed, looking down to her hands. The last week Arya had been sleepless yet laying down in her bed, reciting her list over and over again, even when Sansa was trying to talk to her. Now, she looked different – not better, but less sad, more vengeful, as if her blood was replaced with burning hot anger, tears with longing that couldn’t ever leave her alone again.

“You’re up.” Sansa started, closing the door behind her as she walked towards Arya’s bed.

“I wonder if it was because I stole too many lives from Death. Maybe that’s why he stole mine.” Arya said with a clear voice, looking down to her hands.

“What do you mean?” Sansa said, sitting down to the end of the table, pushing the small tray towards Arya gently. “I brought something to eat.”

Arya didn’t much look towards the meal, instead still staring at her hand.

“What is it?” Sansa asked, nodding towards her hands clasped around something. Arya’s steel eyes finally looked up to Sansa, as she thought of what to do before her fist came forward, turning to drop something on Sansa’s palm.

 

After Arya dropped the small, light object to Sansa’s palm, it felt warm against her skin as Arya had been holding onto it gods knew how long. Sansa brought it under her eyes, trying to stop the gasp escaping her lips.

 

It was ring – crude one at that, made of steel most men forged swords out of, but it still it had the shape, a tiny black stone crafted into it.

It was a wedding ring, there were no questions about it. Most didn’t want them, as knights thought they were in the way of mail gloves and most men couldn’t afford them – but Arya would have married a skilled blacksmith.

 

“It’s… Is it from… Gendry?” Sansa asked, her voice small and careful, as if Arya would be thrown over the edge again any second now.

“One of the blacksmiths he worked with in the forge came to bring it… He… He had left it with a note. To bring it to me, if he… Couldn’t do it himself. Stupid bull, just after…  After one night.” Arya’s voice broke and Sansa leaped towards her, bringing her close, hugging her little sister, trying to med what was broken – but Sansa knew, there was no preparing a broken soul, broken heart.

 

* * *

 

After Sansa left Arya’s chambers that night, she didn’t ever see her sister again. Not alive, that was.

 

Arya left without a word the following night after she received the ring, only leaving a letter Sansa refused to open – there was nothing Arya couldn’t tell Sansa after she came back from wherever she went.

 

Jon and Daenerys left to King’s Landing with their armies, leaving the Winterfell cold and empty. Sansa roamed through the old halls, some repaired and some still in ruins, finding new spots to repair every day, carrying out the tasks of a Lady of Winterfell in the castle marked by death.

 

It wasn’t until a moon later when Sansa receive word from King’s Landing. The castle had fallen, along with the Lannisters. And along with Daenerys Stormborn.

It was a short note, written in hurry.

 

_Sansa,_

_King’s Landing has fallen with Lannisters. Daenerys burned it down._

_Arya was in the city. We found her from the Street of Steel._

_Her body will be sent to be buried in Winterfell._

_\- Jon Snow_

 

Sansa felt her world crumble down.

 

* * *

 

 Almost fifteen years later Sansa walked down the crypt of Winterfell, her youngest son, Ned Stark holding her hand. The boy was barely five, and it was the time he’d met his family of the old, the ones buried beneath his feet and guiding his steps.

“This is my father, Eddard Stark – Ned Stark. Yes, he’s the one you are named after.” Sansa told her son, walking forward. “This is my mother, Catelyn Stark. She was a Tully before.”

“Catelyn? Like Cat?” Ned asked about his older sister, Sansa smiling and nodding slowly.

“Yes, like Cat.” Sansa continued down the lit chamber of the crypt, stopping before a few figures of her brothers. “This is Robb Stark, the King in the North, remember? And this is Rickon, my youngest brother.”

Sansa took a step forward and felt her heart ache even more, as she looked on to the next statues.

“This is my little sister, Arya Stark. She killed the Night King.”

“Why does she have two swords? Why’s she got a ring in a necklace, they’re supposed to be worn in fingers!”

Sansa bit her lip gently, trying to find the right words.

“They’re not just any swords. It’s Needle and the catspaw-dagger, you remember when I told you about the long night, yes?”

“What about the ring, mother?”

“You see the man next to her, the one with the hammer? She got it from him, Gendry.”

“Were they married?” Ned asked, eyes wide with this new information about his aunt her mother had never told him before.

“They didn’t have time.” Sansa started, drawing in a breath as she thought back to the letter Arya had left her after leaving to King’s Landing. Sansa couldn’t open the letter for almost a year, but every word in it was still carved deeply to her mind. “But she called him her forest love.”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah sorry about that needed an outlet after i started thinking about this scenario


End file.
